


Virginal

by cello_shots



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cello_shots/pseuds/cello_shots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando has had his share of relations with women, but when it comes to men, he's still... well, a virgin.  </p>
<p>((Author's Note:  I adore Sean Bean and I know he would never act in the manner I have written.  I am a survivor of a sexual predator, and I find writing scenes like these helps me to address my own feelings.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Scent of Spring

**Virginal**

Chapter 1

"The Scent of Spring"

 

A sweet spring breeze swept across the parking lot of the Italian restaurant, carrying with it a few petals that had been loosed by the fruit trees that had once borne them. Orlando closed his eyes and took in the scent, glad that he was upwind of the restaurant. No matter how delicious the pastas and breads inside smelled, they couldn't compare to the cool night breeze scented with blossoms and grass and distant rain and, best of all, Sean.   
  
Orlando opened his eyes again to find the older man regarding him with an expression of lustful appreciation. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Sean blew out a plume of cigarette smoke that was carried off instantly by the wind. "Damn," he purred slowly, softly, "you look sexy in moonlight."   
  
Quirking a smile at him, Orlando replied, "The moon's behind a cloud. I happen to be awash in _neon_ light at the moment." To prove his point, and perhaps to get Sean's intense gaze to go elsewhere for just a moment, Orlando nodded toward the harsh glow of a neon sign in the restaurant's window. He found such signs to be a bit tacky on anything other than a pub or an all-night convenience shop, but the fettuccini alfredo he had had for dinner had been absolutely delicious.   
  
Sean moved toward him, drawing his attention back to the now. "Either way," he said in that Yorkshire accent that sent chills up Orlando's spine, "you look bloody sexy." His hands, calloused from the months of training to wield Boromir's sword, found their way inside Orlando's black hoodie... under his t-shirt...   
  
_Don't tense up, don't tense up_ , Orlando silently pleaded with himself. This was all still very new to him. It had taken until only recently for him to even realize what those feelings _were_ that made his heart flutter and his stomach flip-flop every morning when he and Sean were in make-up together, slowly transforming into Legolas and Boromir. Sure, he had had his share of flings with the opposite sex, but when it came to being with a man, he was still...   
  
well...   
  
A virgin.   
  
And he never felt more like a virgin than at that very moment, as Sean's mouth moved hungrily up and down the tendons of his long neck, tickling Orlando under the jaw with a combination of soft lips and stubble-roughened chin. He was attracted to Sean; there was no doubt of that. He just needed a little time to get used to this change in lifestyle.   
  
"Relax," Sean purred against his throat, his breath hot against Orlando's naked flesh. His strong hands roamed greedily beneath his shirt.   
  
"I am," Orlando lied as he tensed further still, beginning now to resist the man's advances. "It's just... " He resisted more strongly.   
  
Sean straightened up and looked at him sharply, and when he spoke, there was a hint of irritation. "What?"   
  
Orlando, beginning to feel foolish for his shyness, pulled his shirt and hoodie back down as he spoke. "It's just... we're in a parking lot... of a restaurant... at dinnertime... "   
  
"Are you saying you don't want to be seen with me?" The hint of irritation flared to a flash of anger. "Dammit, Orlando — "   
  
"No, no, that's not it at all," Orlando said quickly, holding Sean in his dark gaze in an attempt to diffuse the man's anger and prove that he was telling the truth. "But it's not really a good place to be groping me... wouldn't you agree?"   
  
At that moment, the door of a restaurant opened and a woman with two young children stepped out into the cool spring night. The mother glanced in their direction, nodded in greeting, then began buckling her children into their car seats.   
  
"See what I mean?" Orlando continued, an apologetic smile on his lips.   
  
Sean heaved a sigh, and his tense jaw loosened into an apologetic smile of his own. "Aye, all right." He reached up and briefly held Orlando's chin between his thumb and crooked forefinger. "Let's get out of here before I bend you over the bonnet of that Toyota and really give the people a show."

*    *    *    *    *

  
  
Clinging to the armrest on the passenger's side door, Orlando began a mental tally of how much beer Sean had drunk with his dinner. Had it been three? No — two and a half. He hadn't finished the last one. Two and a half beers for a man Sean's size was nothing, especially considering he'd drunk them over a two-hour period. Nothing, right? _So why is he driving so fast?_ he wondered anxiously.   
  
Sean, with one hand resting casually atop the steering wheel and the other nestled between Orlando's knees, asked: "So... my place or yours?"   
  
Orlando felt himself blush virginally at this cliché question. He and Sean had talked of dinner, but nothing more. How far was Sean wanting to take it on their first date? — on Orlando's first date _ever_ with a man? It was happening so fast, too fast. He wasn't ready. Not yet.   
  
"Er, well, actually I promised to watch a movie with the Hobbits." That was no lie. "We always rent a movie on Friday night. Hey!" Orlando said excitedly, turning toward the rugged profile of the man beside him. "Why don't you watch the movie with us? It'll be fun. We've got some drinks at the flat, and since tomorrow is our day off, you can crash at our place and have breakfast with us in the morning."   
  
Orlando didn't notice that Sean's jaw had been tense again until it relaxed. He squeezed Orlando's knee — quite hard, actually — and turned toward him while they waited at a red light. "Sure. Sounds fun."   
  
Unconvinced, Orlando reached for the hand on his leg and gave it a gentle but warm squeeze. "You're not angry, are you? I... I'm happy to be with you, I really am... but as I said before, I'll probably have to take this a bit slow."   
  
The older man stared at him for what seemed a long moment, his expression unreadable, until at last his countenance softened into his familiar crooked grin and a myriad of small wrinkles around his eyes, adding to his sexiness. The overall effect of this smile made Orlando wonder if he would have to take it slow after all.   
  
_No_ , he chided himself. _Don't mess this up. You want to do this right, remember? Not just a fling..._   
  
"Of course I'm not angry." Sean's voice broke through Orlando's thoughts. "A movie night with the Hobbits sounds wonderful... " His words trailed as his hand moved in a long, caressing, _possessing_ stroke up Orlando's thigh. "... as long as my favorite Elf is right there with me."   
  
The light turned green.

*    *    *    *    *

 

  
  
"Hello? Dom? Billy?" Orlando peeked into the kitchen and bedrooms. "Elijah? I'm home. Sean's here — he's gonna watch the movie... now where are they?"   
  
He felt Sean's gaze upon him. Turning, he smiled shyly at the older man, suppressing the sudden thrill he felt at having him there in his living room.   
  
"I thought you said they'd be here."   
  
"They usually are," Orlando replied, scratching the soft curls of his short mohawk. "I — wait... here's a note." He crossed the living room, allowing Sean a lingering caress as he passed, and picked up the note left by the telephone.   
  
"We tried to call but your mobile was turned off. You must've been having fun! We didn't want to have movie night without you, but figured you'd be out late. Ian invited us over for dinner. Come over if you get home early!"   
  
"Ransom note?" Sean teased.   
  
"They're at Sir Ian's," he explained. "We can go there, if you'd like."   
  
"Are you kidding?" Sean crossed the room, took the note from Orlando's hand, and laid it carelessly aside. "I've been waiting all evening to get you to myself."   
  
Orlando grinned as Sean pulled him into his arms. He could still hardly believe that this sexy, worldly, sought-after man actually wanted _him_ , a lanky, clumsy bloke from Canterbury. As Sean's hands once more found their way up under Orlando's clothing, Orlando closed his eyes and drew in the scent of the other man. How he wanted to curl up in Sean's strong arms while they watched an old black-and-white movie and sipped at whatever cheap beer Dominic had left over in the refrigerator. He could barely wait to feel Sean's tongue push its way into his mouth while Cary Grant's dialogue droned in the background. At once he was aware that a spring shower was sending rivulets of water down the night-blackened windows of the living room. God, this was going to be so perfect...   
  
"I rented... a Cary Grant... movie," Orlando began, alternating words with tender kisses to the underside of Sean's stubbly jaw.   
  
One of Sean's hands roughly grabbed a handful of Orlando's hair and yanked backwards, extending the younger man's throat. Orlando gasped with the suddenness of the movement. "Fuck Cary Grant." With that, Sean hungrily pressed his mouth to the soft, vulnerable skin of Orlando's throat, kneading the flesh with lips, tongue, and teeth.   
  
Despite the erection he felt forming, Orlando tensed... but he didn't pull away. But it wasn't supposed to be like this. Surely the man who had teasingly tousled his Legolas wig and playfully tickled him when the cameras weren't rolling, surely that man couldn't be the same as this man who nibbled so roughly on Orlando's neck that it caused him to wince in pain.   
  
"Sean... please... slow down."   
  
"'Slow down,' he says," Sean replied sardonically. "Do you have any idea how many men and women throw themselves at me on a weekly basis?" His tone was sharp; his gaze, sharper. "Christ, you should be _grateful_ I chose you."   
  
Stunned, Orlando fought to keep his voice from quavering. "I am, I swear! I just need time — "   
  
"You've had enough time" was Sean's growl of a reply. Still gripping a handful of Orlando's hair, he used his superior size and weight to begin pushing the younger man toward the sofa.   
  
Orlando's heart was pounding in his throat, but it was from growing fear now rather than virginal excitement. "Sean, stop — "   
  
His words were cut short by the lips that pushed painfully against his in a brutal kiss, a kiss of power and domination and lust, but void of the tenderness they had expressed earlier that night. He was still being pushed backward. Before he could correct the momentum that was overpowering him, the arm of the sofa caught him behind the knees, and then suddenly he was on the couch, his long legs sprawled over the arm. Sean's solid weight was immediately on top of him. "Sean, stop it!" he cried desperately when the powerful kissing stopped long enough for him to speak.   
  
"Oh, stop being such a prude." Sitting up on Orlando's thighs, using his weight to keep the younger man pinned, Sean peeled his leather jacket off and cast it aside; his black t-shirt soon followed. He then tore Orlando's hoodie and t-shirt off over his head, ignoring the snapping of threads giving way under such treatment and the protests of their wearer.   
  
Sean's fingernails left long red scratches along Orlando's narrow torso. He didn't even know how Sean had undressed him so quickly. _Lots of practice_ , he thought darkly, then sucked in a hiss of pain as the older man's teeth closed around one of his dark nipples.   
  
_This isn't right_ , Orlando thought as tears stung at his eyes. _It's not supposed to be like this!_   
  
When Sean sat up again to start undoing his belt buckle, Orlando took the opportunity. Crying out with both the effort and the anger he felt, he twisted his body in a buck, unseating Sean and sending them both to the floor.   
  
_Get to the door!_   
  
Scrambling to his feet, Orlando started toward the exit... but Sean was faster. His hand closed around Orlando's ankle like a vice, tripping him and bringing him hard to the floor. Orlando cried out in alarm and fear, barely even registering the fact that the green lamp he and Elijah had bought together crashed to the floor. The room plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the kitchen light, which Orlando had forgotten to switch off.   
  
Like an animal, Sean began scrambling his way along Orlando's body. "Stop being such a _bitch_!" he growled. Not even Boromir, under the deadly spell of the ring, could have sounded so cold, so dangerous.   
  
"Get off!" Orlando, face wet with tears, delivered a sharp kick to Sean's shoulder. The attack afforded him just enough time to pull free of the stronger man's grasp, but not enough time to reach the door. Powerful hands, ungentle with rage, spun him around to face his attacker.   
  
Sneering, Sean back-handed Orlando with a mighty swing of his powerful arms, sending the younger man reeling back toward the couch.   
  
_This can't be... this can't be happening!_ Dazed from the blow and choking on blood, Orlando could barely find it in himself to resist when the man he had once thought of as a friend lifted him bodily from where he lay sprawled on the carpet, bent him roughly over the back of the sofa, and tore at his trousers until the chilly air of the apartment told him that he was fully exposed.   
  
The blood rushed to his head as he lay bent over the couch, and all he could think of now was how he would manage to clean the blood that dripped from his nose off of the cushions. He heard a low, animalistic sound from behind him as Sean took in the sight of his vulnerable body... then the sound of trousers being undone... then the sound of his own tense cry of pain as the foreign thing forced its way inside of him. His flesh, unprepared and unused to anal intercourse, tore and bled. Orlando cried out again as, for the first time in his life, he associated sex with pain and betrayal.   
  
Behind him, Sean grunted lustfully as he thrust again and again, riding Orlando harder and harder until the full length of his penis was enveloped by the younger man's virginal flesh. His hands, planted against Orlando's defined shoulder blades in order to hold him down, kneaded and clawed painfully until Orlando was no longer sure what part of his body hurt the most. Blood mixed with saline tears dripped from Orlando's nose as he endured the rape. He lost all sense of time. His body numbed itself to the assault it was taking. Again and again he was pushed against the back of the sofa, and every now and again Sean would prod him to take a few steps forward to close the distance created when the couch moved away from them.   
  
Seemingly frustrated by this, Sean finally lifted Orlando until his toes no longer reached the floor, then pushed — his enormous cock still pulsating inside of Orlando — until the couch was against the wall and no longer had any place to move. With that accomplished, the assault reached a crescendo that Orlando wasn't sure that he could endure. He felt faint as Sean rode him harder than ever until at last, mercifully, the older man gave one final hard buck and came inside of him.   
  
"Oh, god _damn,_ " Sean said in a gravelly voice as his body relaxed. He slumped against Orlando. "God _damn_ that was good. " Then he kissed Orlando gently, tenderly on the base of his neck and withdrew from him.   
  
Orlando refused to let himself cry out at that one last flash of pain as Sean pulled out, leaving a raw emptiness inside of him. His skin crawled at the place where Sean had planted that tender, almost loving kiss at the base of his neck. That, perhaps more than anything else, made him want to retch and heave until every last remnant of the fettuccini alfredo that Sean had bought for him was out of his system.   
  
He heard a sound and looked up, wondering when it was that he had sunk to the floor. The sound was Sean picking up the ruined lamp and placing it back on the end table from which it had fallen.   
  
"Sorry 'bout the lamp. I'll buy you a new one."   
  
The voice sounded so much like the old Sean he had once loved, and the apology so _absurd_ , that Orlando began to laugh. And by the time Sean had gotten dressed, kissed Orlando once more atop the head, and left at last, Orlando's bitter laughter had become sobs.             


	2. Chapter 2

**Virginal**

Chapter 2

 

There was absolute silence in the apartment, the sort of silence that can only be found at 3:07 in the morning. The stillness was so profound that Orlando could hear the clock ticking out in the hallway, the nearly imperceptible sound of the bubbles bursting in the bath, and the beating of his own heart.  
  
Orlando sighed. He was too spent, too numb, too _everything_ to manage any more tears. The hot bath water had eased away the worst of the physical pain for now, but it caused the scratches that crisscrossed over his torso to become even redder so that they screamed their existence. "Look at us," they said. "Look at what we represent. You can still feel it, can't you? You can feel his nails raking over your body. No... not _your_ body. Your body belongs to _him_ now. He took you for his own. You were too stupid to see it coming and too weak to stop it when it did come."  
  
That brought the tears again. Stifling a whimper even though there was no one there to hear it, Orlando sank deeper into the water and gathered the surviving bubbles over his body in an attempt to obscure the marks on his skin.  
  
"We're still here," the scratches and budding bruises said to him. "And we'll still be here on Monday when you go back to work. Everyone will see. Everyone will see and everyone will _know_."  
  
"No," Orlando sobbed, defeated. He raised his pruned hands from the water and pressed them to his face, ignoring the sting of the soap that found its way into his eyes.  
  
_How could this have happened? What did I do wrong?_  
  
Before he could follow that painful trail of thought, Orlando heard what sounded like a car door slamming shut. His heart skipped a beat. Had he remembered to lock the door after Sean left? What if he was coming back?  
  
Alarmed, he climbed out of the tub and groped for the towel he had folded and lain atop the toilet seat. "Shit!" was all he could manage as his foot slid out from under him on the wet tile. He wanted to cry again at the bone-jarring thud, but more important was for him to get to the door before Sean made it up the steps. Orlando scrambled to his feet, not even bothering to wrap the towel around his waist. He just needed to get to the door.  
  
He could see before he'd gotten halfway across the living room that the door was unlocked. _No!_ To his horror, the knob began to turn. In a panic, he slammed himself against the door just as it had begun to open. With numb, trembling fingers, he bolted the door and applied the chain.  
  
"Go away!" he shouted, hoping that he sounded more threatening than afraid.  
  
The voice that came from the opposite side of the door was a familiar one... but it wasn't Sean's.  
  
"Orli?" The American accent belonged to Elijah. "Hey, it's just us."  
  
Simultaneously relieved and embarrassed, Orlando closed his eyes and rested his brow against the chilly door. He could hear his three roommates talking together in indecipherable voices.  
  
The scratches.  
  
Orlando glanced down at the scratches on his chest; he didn't even want to know the condition of his back and neck. Not to mention he was naked. "Shit, um, hold on." He left the chain on the door while he ran to his bedroom, grabbed his egg-plant colored robe, and wrapped it around his shivering frame. At last he unlocked the door and pulled it open.  
  
"What took so long?" Elijah asked, his twinkling blue eyes assuring Orlando that he was teasing.  
  
Billy, Dominic, and, to Orlando's surprise, Sir Ian followed Elijah into the flat. Orlando closed the door after them. "I was taking a bath," he replied hastily, pulling up the collar of his robe to hide any bite marks that he was sure _had_ to be there.  
  
Billy flashed a grin at him. "Okay, then explain that 'go away' to us. Don't ye love us anymore?"  
  
_Tell them!_ a part of Orlando said, but another part answered, _How can I tell them? They adore Sean... like I once did..._  
  
"I... I wasn't expecting you blokes back tonight. I guess I was just a little paranoid."  
  
"I told the Hobbits they were more than welcome to sleep at my place," Sir Ian began as he looked around the living room. He was too polite to say anything, but Orlando had seen Ian's immaculate living quarters and could only guess at what was going through the older man's head as he took in their low-brow bachelor pad; "but they insisted on not leaving you here alone. They've had some drinks, so I brought them home." He turned his gaze to Orlando, and Orlando was grateful for the dim lighting. "You don't mind bringing them by later to pick up their car from my place, do you?"  
  
Orlando shook his head. "No, no, of course not."  
  
The Hobbits were all over the place, peeling off jackets and kicking off shoes and raiding the refrigerator for snacks. "Why is it so dark in here?" Dom asked, coming back into the living room and reaching for the lamp.  
  
"I... I knocked over the lamp." He laughed nervously and ran a hand over his short mohawk. "I'm such a klutz."  
  
Sir Ian was observing them all with a look of amusement. Orlando finally remembered his manners. "Ah, I'm sorry — have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"  
  
Ian held up a hand. "No, thank you. I need to head back. Old men like me need our sleep," he added with a chuckle.  
  
Orlando suddenly felt annoyed at the Hobbits for keeping Ian up all night. "You're more than welcome to sleep here," he offered. "You can take my bed; I'll sleep on the couch." Normally Orlando would not have offered to give up his bed due to the havoc spending a night on the lumpy couch would cause his back, but he felt a desperate need for Sir Ian's comforting presence.  
  
"You'll do no such thing," Ian replied, making his way to the door. "But it is sweet of you to offer." He leaned forward and kissed Orlando's cheek; it was all the younger man could do not to flinch away. Sir Ian seemed to have noticed something odd in Orlando's behavior, for he stopped in the frame of the door and studied him so intently that Orlando wanted him to leave as much as he wanted him to stay.  
  
Elijah bounced up from the kitchen and wrapped an arm around Orlando. "Thanks for a great night, Ian!"  
  
"Good night!" the other two called.  
  
Sir Ian's gaze lingered on Orlando for just a moment longer, then softened into a smile as he bade them all good night.  
  
"So," Elijah pried, poking Orlando in the ribs in a manner that was more than a little bit annoying at 3:00 in the morning, "how'd the date go?"  
  
Orlando squirmed out of Elijah's one-armed embrace, wanting anything but to be touched at the moment. "It was fine," he answered noncommittally. Anger began to roil within him.  
  
"Oh, that's no good," Billy chimed in. "Come on. Details!"  
  
"There's nothing to tell." Orlando glanced at the sofa. He had removed the covers of the throw pillows and thrown them in the wash along with his clothes — his clothes smelled like _Sean_ — and turned the bloodied cushions over after scrubbing them within an inch of their lives to get the stains out. Other than the missing throw-pillow covers, nothing seemed out of place. He stared, hard and unblinking, at the back of the couch where Sean had bent him over and... and...  
  
... and raped him.  
  
His breath caught in his throat. Had it really happened? Of course it had. The pain of his torn flesh told him that it had been no nightmare.  
  
With a start, Orlando suddenly realized that there were three sets of eyes watching him, waiting for him to tell the raunchy details of his date. He resented them for that. "I'm going to bed," he snapped, then stalked off to his room, locking the door behind him.

 

*    *    *    *    *

To Orlando’s immense relief, Sean Astin came by the apartment the following afternoon and gave Dom a ride to Sir Ian’s to fetch his car.  Elijah and Billy had gone off to see a matinee, leaving Orlando by himself in the apartment.  Eli and Billy had tried to coax him into joining them to the movie, but Orlando had absolutely zero desire to get out of bed.  He finally had to feign a headache to get them to leave without him.  The fact that he was still abed when he said this helped his case.

Orlando rolled onto his side and stared at the sunlight illuminating the dark curtains.  He wasn’t the type to languish in bed—especially not after breaking his back a few years ago—but some vital part of his spirit seemed to have been diminished.  Extinguished, maybe.  He simply didn’t have the will to face the world today.

The screen of his mobile lit up on the bedside stand; he’d turned off the ringer before his date with Sean and hadn’t bothered to turn it back on.  Sean’s name was on the screen.  Scowling, Orlando reached over and switched his phone off, then turned his back toward it.

He wanted the emptiness of sleep.  Deep sleep.  No dreams, no memories, no thoughts roiling through his head.  There would be cold medicine in the bathroom, or allergy medicine.  He could dose himself into oblivion, he supposed, but he wasn’t up to getting out of bed just yet.

Another twenty minutes ticked by.  Orlando groaned inwardly when he heard keys jangling in the front door.  He really should have turned on a fan or something, some sort of white noise to help keep the integrity of his cocoon.  Instead, being fully aware of one of his flatmate’s return, he felt his body tensing rather than slipping toward sleep.  He’d have to dose himself with something to make him drowsy after all.

He lay still, listening to the movements in the living room.  No voices, and it was too early to expect Elijah and Billy to be back.  Dom, then.  Returning from Sir Ian’s with his car.  Keys being tossed onto a table.  Footsteps.  Refrigerator being opened, shut.  Footsteps again.  Coming closer.  A light knock at Orlando’s bedroom door.

“Orlando?” Dom said softly through the door.

_Pretend to be asleep.  He’ll go away._

“Are you ok?”

_Go away._

“Ian asked after you,” Dominic continued uncertainly.  “He… he’s a bit worried about you.  Orlando?  …I’m coming in.”

Orlando hurriedly turned his head away from the door before it could open.  He didn’t want Dom to see his swollen eyes.  “I’m ok,” he managed, voice muffled by the pillow.  “I’ve… got a migraine.”

Dom’s weight settled onto the edge of the bed.  “Ian said you seemed off last night when he brought us home.  I was too tipsy to notice.”  There was a brief silence.  “Did… everything go all right?  On your date with Sean?”

“Yeah, fine.”  Orlando tried but couldn’t keep the hardness from his voice.  He sighed.  “Dom… I’d like to be alone, please.”

Dominic sighed as well.  “All right, mate.”  He patted Orlando’s back, unwittingly striking one of the scratches Sean had raked into the skin of his back.  “I’m here if you need me.”

Pain, emotional as well as physical, brought fresh tears to Orlando’s eyes.  He didn’t trust his voice.  He nodded.

At last, the weight on Orlando’s bed lifted, Dom’s feet whispered across the carpet, and the door closed behind him.


End file.
